Volume One – Chapter Thirteen.
After the Mishap
Such an accident could not occur without the news spreading pretty quickly; and in the course of the morning several of the neighbours drove over to make inquiries, the trouble having been so far magnified that, as it travelled in different directions, the number of drowned had varied from one to half-a-dozen; the most sensational report having it that the pleasure-boat had been sunk as well, and that men were busy at work trying to recover it up by the weir.
The groom had returned; the patient had partaken of his sedative draught and sunk into a heavy sleep, watched by his wife; while the doctor had gone to lie down for a few hours’ rest, for, as he said, the excitement was at an end, and all that was needful now was plenty of sleep. Arthur Prayle had betaken himself to the garden, where he read, moralised, and watched John Monnick, who in his turn dug, moralised, and watched the visitor from beneath his overhanging brows.
Aunt Sophia and Naomi were in the drawing-room reading and answering letters; the former doing the reading, the latter the answering from dictation; for there was a cessation from the visiting that had gone on all the morning.
“Now I do hope they will leave us at peace,” said Aunt Sophia. “Talk, talk, talk, and always in the same strain. I do hate country visiting-calls; and I will not have my correspondence get behind. – Now then, my dear, where were we?”
“East Boodle silver-lead mines,” said Naomi. “Ah, of course. Expect to pay a dividend of twelve and a half per cent?”
“Yes, aunt dear,” said the girl, referring to a prospectus.
“Humph! That’s very different from consols. I think I shall have some of those shares, Naomi.”
“Do you, aunt?”
“Do I, child? Why, of course. It’s like throwing money in the gutter, to be content with three per cent, when you can have twelve and a half. Write and tell Mr Saxby to buy me fifty shares.”
“Yes, aunt dear. But do you think it would be safe?”
“Safe, child? Yes, of course. You read what all those captains said – Captain Pengummon and Captain Trehum and Captain Polwhiddle.”
“But Mr Saxby said, aunt, that some of these Cornish mines were very risky speculations; don’t you remember?”
“No, my dear; I don’t. I wonder that I remember anything, after yesterday’s shock.”
“But I remember, aunt dear,” said the girl. “He said that if these mines would pay such enormous dividends, was it likely that the shares would go begging, and the owners be obliged to advertise to get them taken up.”
“Yes; and Captain Polwhiddle in his printed Report says that there is a lode of unexampled richness not yet tapped; though one would think the silver-lead was in a melted state, for them to have to tap it.”
“Yes, aunt dear; but Mr Saxby said that these people always have a bit of rich ore on purpose to make a show.”
“I don’t believe people would be so dishonest, my dear; and as for Mr Saxby – he’s a goose. No more courage or speculation in him than a frog. Not so much. A frog will travel about and investigate things; while Mr Saxby sits boxed up in his office all day long, and as soon as a good opportunity occurs, he spoils it. I might have made a large fortune by now, if it had not been for him. Write and tell him to buy me a hundred twenty-pound shares.”
The letter was written, read over by Aunt Sophia, in a very judicial manner, through her gold-rimmed eyeglass, approved, and had just been addressed and stamped, when there was the sound of wheels once more, and the servant shortly after announced Lady Martlett.
At the same moment the visitor and Doctor Scales entered the drawing-room from opposite doors, the latter feeling bright and refreshed by his nap; and Aunt Sophia and Naomi looked on wonderingly as Lady Martlett stopped short and the doctor smiled.
Her Ladyship was the first to recover herself, and walked towards Aunt Sophia with stately carriage and extended hand. “I have only just heard of the accident,” she said in a sweet rich voice. “My dear Miss Raleigh, I am indeed deeply grieved.” She bent forward and kissed Aunt Sophia, and then embraced Naomi, before drawing herself up in a stately statuesque manner, darting a quick flash of her fine eyes at the doctor and haughtily waiting to be introduced.
“It’s very kind of you, my dear Lady Martlett,” said Aunt Sophia – “very kind indeed; and I’m glad to say that, thanks to Doctor Scales here, my poor nephew has nearly recovered from the shock. – But I forgot; you have not been introduced. Lady Martlett; Doctor Scales.”
“Doctor Scales and I have had the pleasure of meeting before,” said Lady Martlett coldly.
“Yes,” said the doctor; “I had the pleasure of being of a little assistance to her Ladyship;” and as he spoke he took a sixpence out of his pocket, turned it over, advanced a step with the coin between his finger and thumb, as if about to hand it to its former owner; but instead of doing so, he replaced it in his pocket and smiled.
Lady Martlett apparently paid no heed to this movement, but bowed and turned to Aunt Sophia; while the doctor said to himself: “Now, that was very weak, and decidedly impertinent. I deserved a snub.”
“Doctor Scales and I met last week – the day before – really, I hardly recollect,” said Lady Martlett. “It was while I was out for a morning ride. He was polite enough to open a gate for me.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Aunt Sophia quietly; and she wondered why the visitor should be so impressive about so trifling a matter.
“And now, tell me all about the accident,” said Lady Martlett; “I am so fond of the water, and it seems so shocking for such an innocent amusement to be attended with so much risk.”
“I was always afraid of the water,” said Aunt Sophia; “and not without reason,” she added severely; “but against my own convictions I went.”
“But Sir James is in no danger?”
“O dear, no,” said the doctor quickly.
“I am glad of that,” said the visitor, without turning her head, and taking the announcement as if it had come from Aunt Sophia.
“Thanks to Doctor Scales’s bravery and able treatment,” said Aunt Sophia.
“Pray, spare me,” said the doctor, laughing. “I am so accustomed to blame, that I cannot bear praise.”
“I am not praising you,” said Aunt Sophia, “but telling the simple truth. – What do you say, Naomi?”
“I did not speak, aunt,” replied the girl.
“Tut! child; who said you did?” cried Aunt Sophia pettishly. “You know that the doctor saved your cousin’s life.”
“O yes, indeed,” cried Naomi, blushing, and looking up brightly and gratefully; and then shrinking and seeming conscious, as her eyes met those of their visitor gazing at her with an aspect mingled of contempt and anger – a look that made gentle, little, quiet Naomi retire as it were within herself, closing up her petals like some sensitive bud attacked by sun or rain.
The doctor saw it, and had his thoughts upon the matter, as, upon his threatening to beat a retreat, Aunt Sophia said: “Well, never mind; I can think what I please.”
“Think, then, by all means,” he said merrily. – “Flattery is hard to bear, Lady Martlett.”
“I am not accustomed to flattery,” said the visitor coldly, and she turned away her head.
“That is a fib,” said the doctor to himself, as he watched the handsome woman intently. “You are used to flattery – thick, slab, coarse flattery – to be told that you are extremely beautiful, and to receive adulation of the most abject kind. You are very rich, and people make themselves your slaves, till you think and look and move in that imperious way: and yet, some of these days, ma belle dame, you will be prostrate, and weak, and humble, and ready to implore Doctor somebody or another to restore you to health. Let’s see, though. I called you belle dame. Rather suggestive, when shortened and pronounced after the old English fashion. – Well, Miss Raleigh, of what are you thinking?” he said aloud, as he turned and found Naomi watching him; Lady Martlett having risen and walked with Aunt Sophia into the conservatory.
“I – I – ”
“Ah, ah!” said the doctor, laughing. “Come, confess; no evasions. You must always be frank with a medical man. Now then?”
“You would be angry with me if I were to tell you,” said Naomi.
“Indeed, no. Come, I’ll help you.”
“Oh, thank you – do,” cried the girl with a sigh of relief, which seemed to mean: “You will never guess.”
“You were thinking that I admired Lady Martlett.”
“Yes! How did you know?” cried the girl, starting.
“Diagnosed it, of course!” said the doctor, laughing. “Ah, you don’t know how easily we medical men read sensitive young faces like yours, and – Oh, here they come back.”
In effect, Lady Martlett and Aunt Sophia returned to the drawing-room, the former lady entirely ignoring the presence of the doctor till she left, which she did soon afterwards, leaving the kindest of messages for Lady Scarlett, all full of condolence, and quite accepting the apologies for her non-appearance. Then there was the warmest of partings, while the doctor stood back, wondering whether he was to be noticed or passed over, the latter seeming to be likely; when, just as she reached the door, Lady Martlett turned and bowed in the most distant way.
Then John Scales, M.D., stood alone in the drawing-room, listening to the voices in the hall as the door swung to.
“Humph!” he said to himself. “What a woman! She’s glorious! I like her pride and that cool haughty way of hers! And what a voice!
“No; it won’t do,” he muttered, after a short pause. “I’m not a marrying man – not likely to be a marrying man; and if I were, her Ladyship would say, with all reason upon her side: ‘The fellow must be mad! His insolence and assumption are not to be borne.’
“I wish I had not shown her the sixpence, she will think me quite contemptible.”
“Talking to yourself, doctor?” said Lady Scarlett, entering the room, looking very pale and anxious.
“Yes, Lady Scarlett; it is one of my bad habits. – How is my patient?”
“Sleeping pretty easily,” she said. “I came to ask you to come and look at him, though.”
“What’s the matter?” cried the doctor sharply; and he was half-way to the door as he spoke.
“Nothing, I hope,” exclaimed Lady Scarlett, trembling; “but he alarms me. I – I am afraid that I am quite unnerved.”
The doctor did not make any comment till he had been and examined the patient for a few minutes, Lady Scarlett hardly daring to breathe the while; then he turned to her with a satisfied nod: “Only the sedative. You are over-anxious, and must have some rest.”
This she refused to take, and the doctor had to give way.
Volume One – Chapter Fourteen.
Mr Saxby Comes Down on Business
The next day and next, Sir James Scarlett seemed to be better. He was pale and suffering from the shock, speaking gravely to all about him, but evidently trying to make the visitors feel at their ease. He pressed them to stay; but the doctor had to get back to town; so had Prayle, though the latter acknowledged the fact with great reluctance; and it was arranged that they were to be driven over to the station together.
That morning at breakfast, however, a visitor was announced in the person of Mr Frederick Saxby.
“Saxby? What does he want?” said Scarlett. “Why, he must have come down from town this morning. Here, I’ll fetch him in.” He rose and left the room, and the doctor noted that his manner was a good deal changed.
“Unpleasant business, perhaps,” he thought: and then, as his eyes met Lady Scarlett’s: “She’s thinking the same.”
Just then Scarlett returned, ushering in a good-looking rather florid man of about thirty-five, over-dressed, and giving the impression, from his glossy coat to his dapper patent-leather boots, that he was something in the City.
“Saxby has come down on purpose to see you, aunt,” said Scarlett. “Trusted to our giving him some breakfast, so let’s go on, and you people can afterwards discuss news.”
Mr Saxby was extremely polite to all before he took his place, bowing deferentially to the ladies, most reverentially to Naomi, and apologetically to the gentlemen; though, as soon as the constraint caused by his coming in as he did had passed, he proved that he really was something in the City, displaying all the sharp dogmatic way of business men, the laying-down-the-law style of speech, and general belief that all the world’s inhabitants are fools – mere children in everything connected with business – always excepting the speaker, who seemed to assume a kind of hidden knowledge concerning all matters connected with sterling coin. He chatted a good deal upon subject that he assumed to be likely to interest his audience – how Egyptians were down, Turkish were up, and Hudson’s Bays were slashing, an expression likely to confuse an unversed personage, who might have taken Hudson’s Bays for some celebrated regiment of horse. He several times over tried to meet Aunt Sophia’s eyes; but that lady rigidly kept them upon her coffee-cup; and not only looked very stern and uncompromising, but gave vent to an occasional sniff, that made Mr Saxby start, as though he looked upon it as a kind of challenge to the fight to come.
Despite the disturbing influences of Aunt Sophia’s sniffs and the proximate presence of Naomi, by whom he was seated, and to whom, in spite of his assumption, he found himself utterly unable to say a dozen sensible words, Mr Frederick Saxby, of the Stock Exchange, managed to partake of a most excellent breakfast – such a meal, in fact, as made Dr Scales glance inquiringly at him, and ask himself questions respecting digestion and the state of his general health.
It was now, as the breakfast party separated, some to enter the conservatory, others to stroll round the garden, that Aunt Sophia met Mr Saxby’s eye, and nodding towards the drawing-room, said shortly: “Go in there! – Naomi, you can come too.”
Mr Saxby heard the first part of Aunt Sophia’s speech as if it were an adverse sentence, the latter part as if it were a reprieve; and after drawing back, to allow the ladies to pass, he found that he was expected to go first, and did so, feeling extremely uncomfortable, and as if Naomi must be criticising his back – a very unpleasant feeling, by the way, to a sensitive man, especially if he be one who is exceedingly particular about his personal appearance, and wonders whether his coat fits, and the aforesaid back has been properly brushed.
Naomi noted Mr Saxby’s uneasiness, and she also became aware of the fact that Arthur Prayle strolled slowly off into the conservatory, where he became deeply interested in the flowers, taking off a dead leaf here and there, and picking up fallen petals, accidentally getting near the open window the while.
“Now, Mr Saxby,” said Aunt Sophia sharply, “you have brought me down those shares?”
“Well, no, Miss Raleigh,” he said, business-like now at once. “I did not buy them because – ”
“You did not buy them?”
“No, ma’am. You see, shares of that kind – ”
“Pay twelve and fifteen per cent, and I only get a pitiful three.”
“Every year, ma’am, regularly. Shares like those you want me to buy generally promise fifteen, pay at the rate of ten on the first half-year – ”
“Well, ten per cent, then,” cried Aunt Sophia.
“Don’t pay any dividend the second half-year, and the shares remain upon the buyer’s hands. No one will take them at any price.”
“Oh, this is all stuff and nonsense, Mr Saxby!” cried Aunt Sophia angrily.
“Not a bit of it, ma’am,” cried the stockbroker firmly.
“But I say it is!” cried Aunt Sophia, with a stamp of her foot. “I had set my mind upon having those shares.”
“And I had set my mind upon stopping you, ma’am. That’s why I got up at six o’clock this morning and came down.”
“Mr Saxby!”
“No use for you to be cross ma’am. Fighting against my own interest in the present; but while I have your business to transact, ma’am, I won’t see your little fortune frittered away.”
“Mr Saxby!” exclaimed Aunt Sophia again.
“I can’t help it, ma’am; and of course you are perfectly at liberty to take your business elsewhere. I want to make all I can out of you by commission and brokerage, etcetera; but I never allow a client of mine to go headlong, and run himself, or herself, down a Cornish mine, without trying to skid the wheels.”
“You forget that you are addressing ladies, Mr Saxby.”
“Beg pardon; yes,” said the stockbroker, trying hard to recall what he had said. “Very sorry; but those are my principles, ma’am. – I’m twenty pounds out of pocket, Miss Raleigh,” he continued, “by not doing this bit of business of your aunt’s.”
“And I think it is a very great piece of presumption on your part, Mr Saxby. You need not address my niece, sir; she does not understand these matters at all. Am I to understand then, that you refuse to buy these shares for me?”
“Yes, ma’am, must distinctly. I wouldn’t buy ’em for a client on any consideration.”
“Very well, sir; that will do,” said Aunt Sophia shortly. “Good-morning.”
“But, my dear madam – ”
“I said that will do, Mr Saxby,” said Aunt Sophia stiffly. “Good-morning.”
Mr Saxby’s lips moved, and he seemed to be trying to say something in his own defence, and he also turned towards Naomi, as if seeking for sympathy; but she only cast down her eyes.
“Perhaps Mr Saxby would like to walk round the garden before he goes away,” continued Aunt Sophia, looking at a statuette beneath a glass shade as she spoke. “He will find my nephew and the doctor there. – Naomi, my dear, come with me.”
“Really madam” – began the stockbroker.
“Of course you will charge your expenses for this visit to me, Mr Saxby,” said Aunt Sophia coldly; and without another word she swept out of the room.
“Well, if ever I” – Mr Saxby did not finish his sentence as he stood in the hall, but delivered a tremendous blow right into his hat, checking it in time to prevent injury to the glossy fabric; and then, sticking it sideways upon his head, and his hands beneath his coat-tails, he strolled out into the garden.
Ten minutes later, Aunt Sophia returned into the drawing-room, and as she did so, a tall dark figure rose from where it was bending over a book.
“Bless the man! how you made me jump,” cried Aunt Sophia.
“I beg your pardon – I’m extremely sorry, Miss Raleigh,” said Prayle softly. “I was just looking through that little work.”
“Oh!” said Aunt Sophia shortly.
“By the way, Miss Raleigh – I am sure you will excuse me.”
“Certainly, Mr Prayle, certainly,” said Aunt Sophia, who evidently supposed that the speaker was about to leave the room.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I only wanted to observe that I am engaged a great deal in the City, and – er – it often falls to my lot – er – to be aware of good opportunities for making investments.”
“Indeed,” said Aunt Sophia.
“Yes; not always, but at times,” continued Prayle. “I thought I would name it to you, as you might perhaps feel disposed to take shares, say, in some object of philanthropic design. I find that these affairs generally pay good dividends, while the shareholders are perfectly safe.”
“Thank you, Mr Prayle,” said Aunt Sophia shortly. “I don’t know that I have any money to invest.”
“Exactly so,” exclaimed Prayle. “Of course I did not for a moment suppose that for the present you would have; but still I thought I would name the matter to you. There is some difficulty in obtaining shares of this class. They are apportioned amongst a very few.”
“And do they pay a high percentage?”
“Very, very high. The shareholders have been known to divide as much as twenty per cent, amongst them.”
“Indeed, Mr Prayle.”
“Yes, madam, indeed,” said the young man, as solemnly as if it had been some religious question.
“That settles it then,” said Aunt Sophia cheerfully.
“My dear madam?”
“If they pay twenty per cent, the thing is not honest.”
“My dear madam, I am speaking of no special undertaking,” said Prayle; “only generally.”
“Special or general,” said Aunt Sophia dogmatically, “any undertaking that pays more than five per cent, is either exceptionally fortunate or exceptionally dishonest. Take my advice, Mr Prayle, and if ever you have any spare cash to invest, put it in consols. The interest is low, but it is sure, and whenever you want your money you can get it in an hour without waiting for settling days. There, as you are so soon going, I will say good-morning and good-bye.”
She held out her hand, which was taken with a great show of respect, and then they parted.
“The old girl is cunning,” said Arthur Prayle to himself; “but she will bite, and I shall land her yet.”
“Ugh! How I do hate that smooth, dark, unpleasant man!” said Aunt Sophia, hurrying up to her bedroom. “He always puts me in mind of a slimy snake.”
Moved by this idea, Aunt Sophia carefully washed her hands in two different waters, and even went so far as to smell her right hand afterwards, in happy ignorance of the fact that snakes are not slimy, but have skins that are tolerably dry and clean. So she sniffed in an angry kind of way at the hand she washed, though its scent was only that of old brown Windsor soap, which had for the time being, in her prejudiced mind, become an odour symbolical of deceit and all that was base and bad.
“Ah!” she exclaimed, after another good rub, and another sniff; “that’s better now.”
An hour later, the doctor, Prayle, and Mr Saxby had taken their leave, the last fully under the impression that he had lost a very excellent client.
“Most pragmatical old lady,” he said to the doctor.
“Well, she has all the crotchets of an old maid,” said Scales. “Ought to have married thirty or forty years ago. I don’t dislike her though.”
“Humph! I didn’t, yesterday, Doctor Scales,” said Saxby; “to-day, I’m afraid I do. How she could ever have had such a niece!”
Prayle looked up quickly.
“Ah, it does seem curious,” said the doctor with a dry look of amusement on his countenance. “Would it not be more correct to say, one wonders that the young lady could ever have had such an aunt?”
“Eh? Yes! Of course you are right,” said Mr Saxby, nodding. “Or, no! Oh, no! That won’t do, you know. Impossible. I was right. Eh? No; I was not. Tut – tut! how confusing these relationships are.”
Mr Saxby discoursed upon stocks right through the journey up; and Mr Prayle either assumed to, or really did go to sleep, only awakening to take an effusive farewell of his companions at the terminus; while Saxby, to the doctor’s discomposure, took his arm, saying, “I’m going your way,” and walked by his side, talking of the weather, till, turning suddenly, he said: “I say: fair play’s a jewel, doctor. Are we both – eh? – Miss Naomi?”
“What, I? – thinking of her? My dear sir, no!”
“Thank you, doctor. First time I’m ill, I’ll come to you. That’s a load off my mind!”
“But really, Mr Saxby, you should have asked Mr Prayle that question.”
“Eh? What? You don’t think so, do you?”
“I should be sorry to pass any judgment upon the matter, Mr Saxby,” said the doctor quietly; “and now we part. Good-day.”
“Prayle, eh?” said Saxby. “Well, I never thought of him, and – Ah, she’s about the nicest, simplest, and sweetest girl I ever saw! But, Prayle!”
People wondered why the smartly dressed City man stopped short and removed his glossy hat to rub one ear.